


True Happiness

by ashindk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashindk/pseuds/ashindk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is partnered with Potter for a potions project. They have the chance to earn a hundred house points, and Draco desperately wants them. If only Potter's stupid green eyes weren't so distracting!</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Happiness

**Author's Note:**

> Dear damnlethalogica. This fic was such struggle for me. I started writing it three times before I got the right tone. It kept turning too angsty and in the end I didn’t manage to fit in as many of your requests as I wanted to. But I really hope I managed to reach a result that you'll enjoy with this 8th year fic, featuring doesn’t-pay-attention-when-he-really-should!Draco  
> Thank you so much for the beta, E! Without you this would have around a hundred extra commas and some very awkward speech tags.

Draco struggled against the invisible bonds holding him in place. Walking into the Forbidden Forest hadn't been one of his greatest plans. But then again, like many of his plans, it would have worked splendidly if it hadn't been for Potter. Not that it would have been necessary at all if it hadn't been for Potter, Draco thought. He tugged at the bonds again, testing their strength. He had been standing here for what felt like hours now, and December nights in the Highlands weren't exactly known for being balmy! He leaned towards a boulder on the ground, and discovered that there was just enough room for him to sit down. A warming charm would be just lovely, he thought with a longing glance at where his wand was lying on the ground, just out of reach. But his feet were getting tired, so he sat down on the cold rock, closed his eyes, and tried to think about what exactly had gone wrong to get him into this mess. Of course it all came back to Potter. Stupid Potter and his stupid, gorgeous smile!

\- - -

Coming back to Hogwarts wasn't an easy decision. But what else was he supposed to do after everything that had happened? With Father in Azkaban and Mother constantly worrying about his future, there really wasn't anything else to do but go back. So Draco prepared himself for a year full of scorn and ridicule, while he tried to rebuild some sort of reputation. That was, after all, what one could expect when one was on the losing side.

So when he sat at the half empty Slytherin table with Pansy and Theo that first night, looking at Potter and his friends across the hall, and the stupid git smiled at him, Draco was completely taken by surprise. He stared into Potter's stupid green eyes like an idiot for far too long, before Weasley elbowed Potter and made him break the eye contact, and Draco realised that he hadn't heard a word of the Headmistress' speech.

Overall, the first week at school wasn't as disastrous as he had feared. There were whispers, and even the occasional shove, but all things considered it wasn't that bad. Potter nodded at him in the corridors or in the shared 8th year common room sometimes, and even muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “morning, Malfoy” when they both tried to get through the door to the Great Hall for breakfast at the same time.

So when Slughorn paired them off for a Potions assignment, Draco thought that it would probably be okay. Not because of Potter and his new penchant for smiling at former Death Eaters of course, but at least Slughorn's blatant favouritism would work in Draco's favour for once.

“Please read the assignment carefully,” Slughorn said. “You will have the whole term to complete this, but I suggest you start right away. I expect you to work closely with your partner. You will need to monitor the potion carefully, and keep records of each step."

Draco sighed and scanned the parchment that appeared in front of them. The first half of the assignment was a fairly standard, if time consuming, mood-altering draught. Draco smiled. This would be easy! He would brew the potion, and let Potter keep the records. That way they wouldn't have to talk to each other too much, and that squirmy feeling he got whenever Potter smiled at him wouldn't be a problem.

“Right,” Potter said. “Which one should we try?”

Draco frowned.

“Which what?” he asked, and cringed at his own ineloquence.

“The effect of the potion is determined by the last ingredient added,” Potter read aloud. He pointed at the bottom of the roll of parchment where the second part of the assignment was listed.

Draco's smile dropped. He read the list of various potions ingredients, ranging from the most common to the rarest. Next to each ingredient was a note, telling how many house points they would earn by brewing that particular variation of the potion.

The list ranged from Mild Drowsiness, induced by adding newt eyes and earning only one measly point, to...

“That one!” Draco pointed.

“True Happiness,” Potter read. “This variation demands the fresh, chopped root from a subspecies of flutterby bush, collected by the light of the moon on a clear night. The root is to be added by the completion of the first stage of the brewing process. The only known location of this particular variation of flutterby bush is –” He paused and shot Draco a rather sceptical look. “The Forbidden Forest! Really, Malfoy? Please tell me you're not suggesting that we take a moonlit stroll through the forest to look for twigs!”

Draco's belly did that annoying squirmy thing again when Potter mentioned moonlit strolls, and just to make sure his face gave nothing away, he gave him his best scowl.

“It's worth two hundred points, Potter. Half of Slytherin house is gone this year, and there are a lot of Gryffindors missing too. The quidditch teams are mostly made up of second and third years. We both need those points if we're going to have even the slightest chance of winning the cup.” And maybe a feeling of true happiness, even if it was induced by a potion, would be a welcome change from all the other, less pleasant emotions he had been dealing with for the past two years. But there was no need to tell Potter about that.

Potter just looked at him. He stared for so long that Draco had to fight the urge to squirm or do something disastrous, like punch Potter in the nose or run his hand through that rat's nest that he called hair. He blinked. Where exactly had that last thought come from?

Potter nodded.

“Okay, Malfoy. The first stage of the potion takes almost six weeks to brew, though. We don't have to decide anything until then. Let's talk about it again when we actually need to decide, yeah?”

Hmm... In six weeks, Potter would most likely have witnessed both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff crush the inexperienced Gryffindor team. Maybe that would make him see sense. Otherwise, Draco would just have to find some other way to convince him. Being the annoying Gryffindor that he was, it was probably unlikely that Potter would accept a bribe, but there had to be something that would make him change his mind. It couldn't hurt to give him a little time...

“Yes, let's do that. In the meantime, we should start the potion. I'll brew, and you can fetch me the ingredients and keep records.”

Potter looked at him like he had grown a second head.

“Really, Malfoy? Who do you think I am, your house elf?”

Draco took a deep, calming breath. This was not going well at all. Apparently Potter's delicate sensibilities demanded a different approach.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, carefully pouring as much sarcasm as possible into his voice. “What I meant to say was would you mind keeping the records if I did the more tricky parts of the brewing?”

He sent Potter his most winning smile; the one his mother used to call angelic when he was younger. Potter just looked at him again. It seemed to have become a habit of his, an annoying one.

“I wouldn't mind at all, Malfoy,” Potter said with a smirk. Stupid Potter!

\- - -

“Colour?” Potter looked up at Draco expectantly with his pen raised. Draco watched, mesmerised, as a single drop of ink gathered at the tip and slowly dropped onto the parchment. Potter sighed and cast a haphazard cleaning spell to clean it up. Potter was perched on the edge of their workbench, balancing with one foot on the chair in front of him and their potions journal supported by his bent knee. He had been sitting like that for ages now, Draco mused. It couldn't be a comfortable position. His arse was probably getting quite sore. Heh!

Potter yawned and ran an ink-splattered hand through his unruly hair, making it stick up even more, and leaving a small blue smudge on his forehead right over the scar. Oddly reluctant, Draco tore his gaze away and looked at the potion instead, inspecting the colour.

“Ultramarine, but with hints of cobalt. It should be clear ultramarine. We'll need to adjust the stirring. I can't decide if it'd be best to add a stir, or to increase the speed, though...”

Draco looked over Potter’s shoulder as he filled in the relevant box. 'Blue,' Potter had written. Draco felt a headache coming on.

“How many times have we been over this, Potter? You need to note the exact shade of the potion. We'll have no way of knowing what the potion will do if we don't know what colour it is. Blue could mean anything!”

“Malfoy,” Potter whined. “We've been at it for hours now! You've inspected this potion more thoroughly than Hermione inspects her book list at the beginning of the school year. Is it really that important?”

“Yes,” Draco said. “I know you couldn't care less, you stupid oaf, but not all of us have a spot in the Auror programme with our name on it! Some of us actually need good grades!”

“Fuck off, Malfoy!” Potter was scowling, but it was oddly lifeless like he didn't really put his heart into it. Which was extremely annoying, since Draco was very proud of his ability to make Potter scowl.

“Oh believe me, I would but we still have to finish our observations. Just write what I tell you to. Even you shouldn't be able to fuck that up.” He gave Potter his most haughty look. “...Scarhead,” he added, mostly out of habit.

Potter rolled his too-green eyes but obliged and scribbled down ultramarin w. hint of cobalt. Adjust stirring.

For a while they both focussed on their work. The only sounds Draco could hear were his own voice dictating information and the scratching of Potter's pen as he wrote it down.

“I think that's it, Malfoy...”

“Yes. We should examine it again tomorrow, though, to see if the adjusted stirring has helped with the colour. After Arithmancy?”

“Yeah, that's okay.” Potter was already slinging his satchel over one shoulder and getting ready to leave.

Draco cast a protective bubble over the potion and collected his own things as Potter walked towards the door. With one hand on the handle, he turned around and looked right at Draco.

“Malfoy?”

“Yes?”

“I'm sorry. I know this is important to you. I'll try to focus more.” Potter sounded so earnest and his eyes were so big and green that Draco's stomach did that odd squirmy thing again, and he had to stop himself from smiling in a truly soppy and un-Slytherinly manner.

“See that you do,” he snapped, instead. Potter nodded, a small smile playing around his annoyingly plump lips, and disappeared into the mass of students walking down the corridor towards the Hall.

\- - -

Draco stepped into the eighth year common room still brushing green goo from his robes after yet another incident with a younger student trying to impress someone. Being on the receiving end of jokes was annoying! No wonder Potter and Weasley used to glare at him! He scanned the room trying to locate Pansy. She was standing in one of the wide window niches, deep in conversation with someone half-hidden behind the curtain. She was nodding and using hand gestures to explain something that seemed to involve a rather complicated wand pattern. Curious, he walked closer.

“Yes. I think that's it. I've been missing that twirl at the end,” he heard Pansy say. She looked up, and when she saw him she waved him closer.

“Draco! Come over here!”

He took the last few steps towards her and saw that the person she had been talking to was...

“Granger!”

“Hello, Malfoy,” Granger said like it was perfectly normal for her to have a friendly chat with Pansy.

“Hermione has agreed to tutor me in Defence Against the Dark Arts. I found myself sorely lacking in the defence aspect,” Pansy said. Draco looked at her. She was wearing a perfectly pleasant expression, which would probably seem relaxed and natural to someone who hadn't spent hours in her company every day for years. Draco wasn't fooled for a second. He turned his eyes to Granger and found that she had her chin raised in the challenging Gryffindor look that Potter also favoured. He was relieved to note that at least it didn't make him feel all hot and squirmy when Granger wore it.

“I see.” He nodded. “That's... very helpful of you, Granger.”

Granger blushed a little and tucked a stray lock of frizzy hair behind her ear.

“We're going to use our Hogsmeade trip to discuss some spells. I'm sure Hermione won't mind if you join us. Isn't that right, Hermione?” Pansy's tone was just this side of innocent. Draco scowled at her.

“Of course. But we'll need a fourth person if we're going to work on spells. Perhaps Ron could –“

“Thanks, Granger, but that won't be necessary!” Granger narrowed her eyes at him and looked less than pleased with the interruption, but the thought of duelling Weasley made his skin crawl. Surely the Weasel would have some nasty hexes up his sleeve after all the insults Draco had thrown his way over the years.

“But, Draco..." Pansy said.

“It won't be necessary because... Because I have made plans for Hogsmeade already!” Draco lied desperately.

“You have?” Granger asked.

“With whom?” Pansy sounded sceptical.

“Erm...” Draco looked around the room desperately. Finnigan and Thomas were playing chess, and Justin Finch-Fletchley and Longbottom were discussing something involving a very large book and a rather vicious-looking purple potted plant that kept trying to strangle them. Theo was snogging one of the Patil twins, and Weasley was standing in a corner by the fire talking to...

“Potter!” Draco almost yelled. “I'm going to Hogsmeade with Potter. To talk about potions. Yes.”

“Really.” Pansy said. “Fancy that...”

“Hmm...” Granger added ambiguously.

“Yes. And I have to go and ask him a very important question. About Potions. The potion, that we're brewing. Together. Yes,” Draco rambled, before absolutely not fleeing. He merely walked very quickly towards Potter and coincidentally away from Pansy and Granger. He almost thought he saw the girls smirk at each other, but dismissed the idea in favour of trying to think of a plan that would make Potter say yes to going to Hogsmeade with him. Bloody Potter! The messy git was everywhere, popping into his field of vision with his stupid rats nest hair and his firm arse and stupidly infectious smile, and making him say insane things!

Draco hovered next to Potter and Weasley, unnoticed.

“...'s up to something, I think,” Weasley said.

“Thanks for the heads-up, mate. I'll be careful. And thanks for... you know... being a great mate.” Potter slapped Weasley on the back. Weasley looked up and noticed Draco.

“Malfoy!” he spat. “What are you doing, listening to a private conversation? Get lost!”

“Sod off, Weasel. I wasn't listening to your blathering. I need to talk to Potter.”

“You don't get to tell me to sod off, you bloody wa–“

“Ron! Malfoy! Stop it. What is it, Malfoy?”

Crap! Insulting Weasley probably wasn't the best way of convincing Potter to help him.

“I... Are we still meeting after Arithmancy?”

“Erm, yes?” Potter drew the s-sound out and turned the word into a slightly mocking question.

“Good. Just checking that you hadn't forgotten it. I was thinking that we should use some of our Hogsmeade time to talk about the project...” He trailed off. Potter was looking a little alarmed, and Weasley was even redder than usual and seemed to be choking on something. Possibly his own tongue, if the spluttering was any indication.

“Are.. are you asking me to go to Hogsmeade with you, Malfoy?” Potter asked.

“No! Yes. I... only for the project, of course.”

Potter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes! The project, of course.”

“Let's meet by the Shrieking Shack at one?”

Potter turned to Weasley, who was gaping at them and shaking his head slowly like he didn't quite understand what was going on. “Is that okay with you, Ron? You said you were going to visit George at the shop...”

“Yeah... Yes, of course. That's... fine...” Weasley stammered.

\- - 

The road to Hogsmeade was full of puddles. Draco stepped around them carefully to protect his dragonhide boots. Even the best water repellent spells wouldn't be enough to save them from muddy stains, and he really didn't want to spend the night casting cleaning charms or pleading with the Hogwarts elves. The death of Dobby really, really hadn't done anything to enamour him to them. Not that they had particularly liked him before, but they hadn't been outright hostile...

He drew his hood further down to keep the rain out of his face, and hurried past a gaggle of fourth year Slytherins who were too busy squealing and pushing each other into the puddles to notice him.

The half-caved in roof of the Shrieking Shack was visible over the next hill, but Potter wasn't likely to show up for at least an hour. He would probably have lunch somewhere with Weasley first, and judging by the amount of food he usually consumed, that would take a while. Yes, Draco decided. He had time for a few errands.

An hour later, he used his elbow to push the door open and edged through, being careful not to let his bags and parcels touch the mouldy, spider web covered walls. There was a rustling from the next room.

“Potter?” he called.

“I'm in here,” came the muffled reply and Draco couldn't quite help the small sigh of relief that escaped him.

When he opened the door, he found Potter standing in the middle of the dusty remains of what had once been a kitchen. He was staring at a spot on the floor, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders drawn up.

“This is where he died, you know?” Potter said.

“Who? The old tosser who used to live here?”

Potter whirled around to look at him. Draco wanted to take a step back, his glare was so intense.

“No! Snape!”

Well, shit!

“Oh,” he said softly. “No, I didn't know that. I'm sorry.”

Potter blinked at him, surprised. “Yeah, well. You seemed to like him, so I just thought you ought to know...”

“He tried to help me, you know... Before. Thank you for telling me.”

“We should go somewhere else,” Potter said.

Draco didn't bother suppressing his shudder this time.

“Yes. We should. The Three Broomsticks?”

“Why not?”  
\- - -

The air in the pub was warm and smelled like butterbeer and meat pies. Draco took a deep breath, and his stomach gave a loud grumble. Potter grinned at him and gestured towards a table in the corner.

“You get your notes out, and I'll order.”

Draco nodded and sat down. He fished in his pocket for his notebook and enlarged it with his wand, before grabbing the new quill he just bought out of the Shrivenshaft bag.

Potter came back, balancing two mugs of butterbeer.

“I'm sorry. I forgot to ask if you had lunch, so I ordered some food.”

“I haven't. Thanks, Potter.”

“Harry.”

“Excuse me?”

“You should call me Harry. The whole last name thing is a little childish, don't you think?”

Draco stared at Potter – Harry? – for a few seconds before he nodded.

“I... suppose so,” he said slowly. “...Harry.”

Well, that was all kinds of weird. But Po – Harry – seemed to like it. He was smiling that ridiculously bright smile, and this time he was smiling at Draco. His belly did that odd squirmy thing again, and he was actually relieved to see Madam Rosmerta directing two floating plates of shepherd’s pie towards their table.

“Here you go, Mr Potter.” She turned to Draco and her smile faded. “Mr Malfoy.”

“Thank you,” Draco said politely.

Madam Rosmerta bustled back to the bar, and he watched as Potter rolled up his sleeves carefully, revealing lean, still slightly tanned forearms. The skin there looked so soft, and there was something weirdly mesmerising about the way he could follow the bone and sinew moving in Potter’s wrists when he used his knife and fork to cut precise bites, spear them and raise them to his lips.

Draco took a tentative bite of his own food and almost groaned out loud at the savoury flavour.

When Madam Rosmerta came to collect their plates, Draco was feeling comfortably drowsy and full. They had emptied their butterbeers and had talked about school and other relatively neutral subjects for a while. Potter was surprisingly funny when he wasn't glaring and throwing hexes. He seemed to be in a good mood, slightly flushed, probably from the food and butterbeer, and even smiling at Draco from time to time. Perhaps now would be a good time to ask about the potion.

“Have you thought about the roots for our potion? I think we'll be ready to add them soon. Maybe next weekend?”

Potter frowned at him, and Draco clenched his hand under the table to prevent himself from doing something stupid. Like reaching out to smooth the small wrinkle that had formed between Potters eyebrows with the pad of his thumb.

“Yeah. I still don't really understand why you want to do this. The forest is not exactly friendly, you know? And I doubt McGonagall will like it...”

“Oh, come on! When have you started caring about things being dangerous? Or about McGonagall and her rules for that matter?”

That earned him a quirk of those stupidly full lips, and the wrinkle disappeared.

“And since when have you started actually encouraging me to break rules. Or do my best in class?”

“Since I started benefiting from it, of course! So are we going to do this?”

Potter smiled. “Yes. I suppose we are, then.”

\- - -

“We'll have to wait for the rain to pass before we go to collect the roots,” Draco said.

Potter held open the door to the small room at the back of the dungeon where the students kept their potions. “Thanks, Harry,” he added over his shoulder. He froze just inside the door. Something was wrong. Potter crowded in behind him, stealing almost all the light, but even in the dim glow that filtered through, their potion looked wrong.

“What's wrong, Draco?”

“Lumos! Fuck!”

“Bloody hell! It's not supposed to bubble like that, is it?”

“No. It isn't. And it's not supposed to hiss, or be that disgusting colour either. I'm going to try to contain it.”

He cast a quick stasis charm followed by the strongest shield he could manage before leaving the room and slamming the door closed. He leaned his back against the wall next to it, and slowly slid to the ground, resting his forehead on his bent knees to hide the tears of fury that were threatening to spill over. Fuck!

“I think someone must have dropped something in it. Or tampered with it.”

“Tampered? Are you saying someone sabotaged our potion? Why?”

He looked up into Potter's stupidly concerned face.

“Because I brewed it?” he suggested. “But most likely it's just someone being careless with their ingredients.”

Potter got that small wrinkle between his eyebrows again, Draco noticed. He should definitely frown less or it'd end up being permanent.

“We should get Slughorn,” Potter said.

Draco nodded. They probably should.

“Yeah. You do that. I'll just stay here and warn anyone about going in there. Bloody fucking hell!” He scrubbed at his stinging eyes with the heels of his hands and tried to think of something that might have made the potion act like that. He came up with nothing.

Potter's hand landed on his shoulder. It was just a light touch at first, but when he didn't do anything to dislodge it, Potter squeezed his shoulder gently and Draco had to stop himself from leaning into the touch. After all, Potter was just trying to make sure he wasn't having a breakdown. Which he sort of was. Shit!

“Draco! Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He gave a short nod, but didn't look up. “I'll be fine. Just a little angry. And tired, you know.”

The warm hand squeezed his shoulder gently one more time before it disappeared.

“I... I'll just get Slughorn, yeah? I'll take my time, if you want to... get a glass of water or something.”

Draco managed another quick nod, and sighed in relief when he heard Potter's footsteps retreat. He took a few deep breaths before getting up from the floor and actually taking Potter's advice. He conjured a glass and filled it, drinking in small sips and letting the cold water help clear his mind.

When Slughorn came bumbling into the room with Potter on his heels, Draco was leafing through their textbook, trying to find out what might have caused the potion to change colour and start bubbling and hissing.

“Oh my! That is one very unstable potion, I must say,” Slughorn said. “Well done on containing the danger, Mr Malfoy. Ten points to Slytherin for quick thinking.”

“Do you have any idea what might have caused it, Professor?” Potter asked.

“I think someone must have accidentally dropped some wormwood in there. That would explain the hissing and bubbling.”

“Can we do anything to counter it?”

“I'm afraid not. There's only one way to stop it from exploding all over the lab. Evanesco!”

Potter was openly gaping at the spot where the cauldron with their carefully crafted potion had been a second before. Now it was just an empty spot of table between two other cauldrons. Draco felt slightly nauseated.

“I'm sorry, lads. At least, if you get to work right away, you'll still have time to finish the project before Christmas. I really must be off now. Loads of letters from old students to answer.” Slughorn started walking back towards the door. “You're both responsible young men, so I'll leave it to you to close up here,” he threw over his shoulder and let the door close behind him.

Potter sank down on the bench next to Draco, rested his head on the worktop and groaned.

\- - -

Brewing the potion for the second time was both easier and more difficult than the first time. On one hand, Draco knew exactly how to adjust the instructions, and he didn't have to argue with Harry about taking notes. On the other hand, it was extremely boring to do it all over again. Maybe that was why Harry insisted on talking about everything from quidditch to his favourite desserts. They didn't agree on much, which wasn't exactly surprising. And so what if Draco sometimes disagreed on principle, just to see that stubborn gleam in Harry's eyes? Or if he smirked a little bit condescendingly, just to see the way Harry would narrow his eyes and glower, or rake slender fingers through his hair in frustration.

Sometimes they continued talking after putting strong shield and warding charms back on their potion. It did turn a few heads the first time Harry sat down at the Slytherin table to continue a heated debate about which model of broomstick was best for flying in strong wind. And Weasley did stop chewing his mouthful of cake for almost a minute the first time Draco joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. At least these days, most people had stopped staring at them when they walked together in the corridors or on the grounds.

Bickering with Harry was quite nice, Draco thought. Comfortable and easy. As long as they stuck to safe topics like which member of the Weird Sisters had the best voice or the worst fashion sense or where to go in Hogsmeade for the best pumpkin pastries.

It was two days before the end of the semester, and the potion was almost finished. They were both exhausted though, having worked on it for hours, and maybe that was the reason why a simple argument over which quidditch player did the best Wronski Feint had turned into a full blown screaming match. Draco had thought it would be a safe topic up until a few minutes ago, when Harry had claimed that the reason Oliver Wood could do it at all was that he had been in Gryffindor. Which had led to Draco arguing that Viktor Krum would have certainly been in Slytherin if he were a Hogwarts student. And Harry saying that Krum was too brave for that.

“I'm just saying that Slytherins are great at taking calculated risks! That's important in quidditch!”

“Will you just listen to yourself? Slytherins are risk-takers my arse!”

“Well, we are!”

“You bloody well are not! Slytherins are bloody cowards!”

Draco scowled at him.

“Listen, you prat! Didn't you learn anything from that war you just won, you bloody... you bigot!”

“Bigot? I'm not a – what the fuck, Malfoy?”

Draco shook his head and slammed his book shut.

“So it's Malfoy again now, is it? Well, fuck you, Scarhead!” 

He stood up and walked out, leaving Harry to tidy up the lab and put the potion away. He thought he heard his name called as he was walking down the corridor towards the stairs, but he really didn't want to talk to anyone right now, least of all Harry. He sped up, almost ran past a few of his housemates and through the entrance hall then barged out the doors to lean against the balustrade and gulp large breaths of the crisp December night air.

Bloody Harry Potter! Always pretending to be the perfect poster boy for all that was just and good, but deep down he was just as petty and prejudiced as everybody else. Not that Draco hadn't done his part to confirm those prejudices in the past, he knew he had, but he had been stupid enough to think that all that was behind them now. That they were, well, friends, he supposed. 

When the rush of anger wore off, he found himself wandering through the grounds. Hagrid's rebuilt hut was visible in the distance, with the forbidden forest looming behind it. The moon was illuminating the bare branches of the Whomping Willow and gleaming off the glass roofs of the greenhouses. Perhaps he should just finish the potion by himself. He certainly didn't need Harry with him to go looking for a bloody bush! The last time he had been in the forest he had been terrified, but he wasn't a first year anymore. He had faced much worse than the creatures that lived in the forest and survived. He took a few steps towards the forest, stopped to draw his wand and cast a Warming Charm on himself, and then continued with more determined strides and his wand in his hand.

\- - -

The forest had seemed quiet when he first entered. But as soon as the moonlit grounds were behind him, it came to life. There were all sort of nocturnal creatures living here, and even in the dead of winter they were out and about, scuttling through the dead leaves on the forest floor or flapping from one bare branch to another over Draco's head.

The bush would be growing under oaks, he remembered. And he needed to find one that was bathed in moonshine. He intensified the strength of his Lumos, and went deeper into the forest, careful not to make too much noise.

It felt like hours before he reached a small clearing that looked promising. There were several old oaks growing there, and in the middle where one of the trees had succumbed to age and crumbled to the ground, a swath of moonlight lit up several bushes, some of which still had a few dry leaves fluttering in the still night air. He used his wand to free a few roots from the half frozen ground, and cast a quick Stasis Spell on them to keep them fresh before secreting them away in his cloak pocket.

He was making his way back across the clearing, carefully avoiding the moss-grown branches of the fallen tree, when suddenly an invisible force had grabbed hold of him. Bonds that he couldn't see were winding around his arms and torso and pulling him back every time he tried to go forward. He fought to free himself, but only managed to drop his wand and make the bonds pull tighter. Sighing, he stopped fighting and looked around, but no one appeared to be there. The bonds were still there though, resting against his skin with just a ghost of a touch, but whenever he tried to move, they tightened. A small bubble of panic pressed against his throat as he tried to think about what to do next. Yelling in the forest seemed like a spectacularly bad idea, especially when he didn't have his wand.

“Hello?” No one answered. “Is anybody there?” he tried, a little louder. “Let go of me!”

Still nothing. He slumped, and the bonds tightened around him, pulling him backwards and up. Up? He tried crouching and they tightened. He stood on his toes and the bonds loosened. He looked above him, and at first saw nothing except branches. He squinted -- there was something on one of the high branches right above his head. Something green and slightly sparkling. He vaguely remembered McGonagall warning them about mistletoe, but he had been so busy staring at Harry that he hadn't really paid attention to her. He struggled against his bonds again, managing to shuffle over to a rock and sit down. Someone would miss him eventually, he hoped. He closed his eyes and waited.

\- - -  
He had managed to doze off despite the cold, or perhaps because of it, when he thought he heard somebody call his name.

“Draco!”

“Draco, where are you?”

“Here!” he croaked. He coughed and tried again. “I'm over here,” he managed a little louder.

The sound of running feet and the sight of two glowing wand tips had never been more welcome --  
And then Harry burst into the clearing

“Draco! Thank God! Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. Stay back, though. Mistletoe!”

Harry stopped only a step away, just as Pansy entered the clearing.

“Draco!” she shouted, and went to hug him.

Potter flung his arm out and stopped her.

“What the hell, Potter?”

“Mistletoe.” Harry pointed. 

Pansy shuddered. “Thanks then, Potter!”

“Actually, you should probably go and free Draco.” Harry said.

“What? Me? I'm not snogging him!” Pansy sounded scandalised. Draco couldn't agree more!

“Why not?” Harry asked. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Because I have known Draco since we were toddlers. He's my oldest friend, practically my brother, and that mistletoe won't settle for a friendly peck on the cheek, you idiot! Didn't you listen to McGonagall's warning? That's not ordinary mistletoe. It'll only release its hold if its victim is kissed by someone they're in love with. And if that someone returns the feelings.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do then?”

Pansy rolled her eyes, grabbed hold of Harry's cloak and pushed him. Draco's arms instinctively came up to catch him before he fell, and he felt the bond loosening before winding around them both, keeping them locked in a tight embrace.

Pansy turned to leave, but just before she reached the tree line, she turned back and cast a strong warming charm on them. “Have fun, boys!” she called over her shoulder.

Draco looked at Harry. He expected to see a glower, or at least an angry scowl, but Harry was biting his lip and frowning with that little wrinkle between his brows again. The tip of his nose was red from the cold and his glasses were knocked askew. His breath was coming in small puffs visible in the moonlight. He looked extremely kissable. He had his arms slung around Draco from when he had been pushed forward, and one of his hands was splayed across the small of his back, rubbing little circles and pressing them closer together.

“Do you think there's a chance that this might work?” Harry whispered.

“I... Yes. I think so,” Draco whispered back.

And then Harry leaned in and touched his lips to Draco's. Draco tensed for a second, and then he melted into the kiss with a happy little sigh, turning it from a dry peck on the lips to something deeper. His arms found their way around Harry's waist and under his cloak, seeking out soft wool and warm skin. Harry's mouth was soft and warm, and Draco touched his tongue to his lower lip experimentally. Harry let out a small gasp and leaned even closer, crowding Draco against the trunk of the large oak and opening his mouth under Draco's. The bonds loosened and then dissolved, but Draco didn't move and Harry didn't seem to be in a hurry to get back to the castle either. He leaned into the tree and rested his forehead against Draco's.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said.

“Huh?” What was he sorry for? Hopefully he wasn't apologising for the kissing because, well, no apology needed.

“For being such a prat back at the castle,” he clarified. “I... don't know what happened. I haven't thought of you that way for a long time, you know. As just a Malfoy and a Slytherin. Erm... I mean, you are, obviously, and that's fine, it's great actually, because it makes you, well, you, but... erm...”

Draco's stomach did that odd fluttery thing again, and this time he thought he knew what it was. Harry was still trying to form a coherent sentence with limited success. A small smile spread over Draco's face, and he silenced Harry with a quick kiss.

“Shut up, Harry.” Draco disentangled himself from the embrace and bent to pick up his wand. Then he held out his hand for Harry to grab and they started making their way back to the castle.

It was almost morning when they reached the edge of the forest. The lights from the castle gleamed golden in the distance, and Harry's hand was still warm around Draco's. He stopped just before they reached the school grounds.

“How did you find me, anyway? And why was Pansy with you?”

“I followed you when you left the dungeon, but I lost track of you in the corridor. Then I ran into Parkinson in the Entrance Hall and she insisted on coming with me. She didn't say so, but I think she felt a little guilty. It was Parkinson and Hermione who sabotaged our potion.”

Draco's mind went blank for a moment.

“Pansy and Granger? Why?”

Harry smiled, just a small quirk of his lips, but it still made Draco feel a little out of breath.  
“Apparently they thought it would be good for us to spend some time together. To work out our differences.”

“That's... a little terrifying.” He made a mental note never to cross Pansy or Granger again. They were both very capable witches, and the thought of what they could achieve with Pansy's cunning and Granger's brains made him a little envious, actually.

Beside him, Harry burst out laughing. The sound caused a curl of warmth to spread in Draco's chest.

“It is, isn't it,” Harry said. “Let's not get on their bad side, yeah?”

Draco slung his arm around Harry's waist, and pressed his cold nose into the soft, warm skin just below his ear. “Yeah. Let's go inside,” he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> You can leave a comment here or [on Livejournal](http://hd-erised.livejournal.com/11330.html).


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